


Jar man

by orphan_account



Category: TF2 - Fandom, Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blow Jobs, Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Piss, Situational Humiliation, Watersports, Wetting, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being know as the resident outcast of the RED team, the Sniper manages to form a relationship which just so happens to be formed on the basis of, well, piss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jar man

**Author's Note:**

> From the lady who brought you gross fetish porn of DC characters comes the story no one wanted! Gross fetish porn of TF2 characters! Yay! Woo! Why is everyone leaving? Guys?
> 
> Okay, so yeah, this has been what I have been working on since April and my God has this story seen a lot of changes. I have a graveyard folder for my fics which I have given up on and this one has been in and out of it so many times it's unreal. Hopefully you all enjoy it, and i'll catch you on the flip side. 8)

He didn’t know the last time he had to pee so bad. It felt like a balloon inflating in his gut, ready to burst if he was to do anything more strenuous than breath. The problem however was that the person in question had a job which relied heavily on him running, jumping, and just in general moving.

Which the Scout had not been doing for the past five minutes.

He was sitting behind a hill, wondering if he could make it back to resupply before pissing himself. He had needed to pee before battle had even started, but he could usually hold it. He really should have know that necking two cans of Bonk!, one after the other was not a good idea. The thought kept crossing his mind to just pull down his pants and go, but he wouldn't be able to deal with the humiliation if he was caught. 

The Scout looked behind him to the cliff. He could just jump off. Then he would be back in resupply and he could piss to his heart's content. But he knew what would happen, the shock of jumping would make him piss, and he’d respawn mid piss and knowing his luck some jackass would walk in on him with a puddle of urine under his feet.

Yeah, he’d rather take his chances walking back to resupply.

He bit his lip, and tightened his already vice like grip on his crotch. He was so gonna piss himself. He looked around the battlefield to see the BLU team steadily pushing the cart, and quickly saw a RED Sniper dot appearing over their heads only to make them fall to the ground one by one as it passed, blood seeping from their gaping bullet wounds.

The Scout’s brows furrowed. He should be the one getting the kills. Instead he was cowering behind a rock because his bladder was on the verge of exploding. The Sniper on the other hand could piss all he wanted thanks to those stupid jars. 

Just as the thought occurred, the Scout realised how to end his plight. The Sniper! His nest would be closer than resupply. He could go there and-

And what? Walk in clutching his dick asking, ‘yo Snipes, I gotta piss like a mother fucker, you got a jar I can borrow?’

Knowing his luck, the Sniper would laugh at him, and throw him out of the nest.

But what choice did he have? The more the Scout poundered the more he realised that the possibility of him getting out of this scenario without some form of humiliation was non existence.

He got up, and immediately felt his mid section cramp. He saw where the Sniper was positioned from the little dot drifting and floating around. He had to get across the battlefield, but as he watched a fresh batch of BLU’s make their way out, he knew what he had to do.

He reached into his pack and pulled out another can of Bonk! As he looked at it he could feel his bladder screaming, ‘NO NO NO, DONT DO THAT, ARE YOU CRAZY?’ But as his brain so eloquently put, ‘bladder, my old chum, if we want Scout to get across the battlefield without your contents ending up all over him, we need to do it quickly and efficiently, and thus I feel bonk would be an amicable solution.’

Even though the Scout knew this was a bad idea, he also knew it was a good one. Even if his bladder ached at the thought. 

He ripped off ring pull, and downed the drink. Whilst he could feel his stomach make a small groan of protest at having to process yet another can of the ridiculous surgery Bonk! His bladder was furious with him.

Luckily Bonk! Had the wonderful side effect of making his body feel like it was on cloud nine. He couldn’t even register the ache in his gut roar to life. He ran, using all of the sugary energy the Bonk! gave him to run, jump and flip around the field avoiding enemy fire. When he reached the shed, for a brief moment he almost forgot why he was here.

And then he felt a warm trickle down his leg.

He clutched himself and in an effort to relieve the tension he hunched. It helped. But if he didn't get this piss out of himself soon, he felt he would literally die. 

He reached a shaky hand to knock on the door, there was no answer, and when he reached for the handle it was locked.

“Sniper! You in there? It’s Scout. You gotta let me in!” He knew his voice was raised a few octaves, but he really was past the point of caring.

“Nice try spook. Piss off.”

The Scout nearly screamed. “Sniper I am not a Spy, please you have to let me in. It's an emergency!”

He could hear the Sniper moving, the rattling of jars inside a good indication. He felt himself whine.

“Alright you little varmint, what do you want?” The small eye slit on the shed door opened up, and the Scout lifted his eyes to it and made another pitiful noise. The Sniper’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

The door opened and before the Scout could even register what was happening he was being pulled inside. If his hands hadn't have been where they were when this had happened. He had a very strong suspicion he would have peed all over the Sniper's nest.

Luckily some part of his brain had some self control left and that didn't happen.

The Scout looked around the room and saw jars all around. Filled with urine of varying shades of yellow. He made a face and under normal circumstances, would have made a joke. But considering what he was here for he kept his mouth zipped shut.

“So, you need a piss I take it?” Hearing the Sniper say it made the sensation in his gut grow stronger if it were possible. 

“Yes, so if you don't mind, could you please give me one of your jars? Please?” The words left him like a gust of wind. He really couldn't even focus on what was happening anymore. All the Scout knew was the pain in his gut. 

“Haha, alright. Alright. I see you're desperate. Here.” The Scout looked at the empty jar and practically salivated at the idea of finally getting to piss. He reached one of his hands up and the jar was retracted. “On one condition. You don't ever take the piss out of me for pissing in jars again. I know you do it. I hear you all yucking it up. So stop. Or I’ll throw you back out there and let you piss yourself in front of everyone.”

The Scout couldn't talk, it was as if his need to empty his bladder eclipsed all other higher brain function. He nodded furiously, and finally the Sniper handed over the jar. The Scout then realised his next problem, undoing said jar, undoing his fly, and getting his dick over said jar to release his gallon of piss.

He hobbled over to a corner. The Sniper was probably smirking at him, and he didn't exactly want to make this situation any worse than it already was. Once he was there, he carefully undid his pants, and zipped open his fly. He almost couldn't believe relief was in sight. He had held it for so long, he didnt even know what it felt like before the pain. What it felt like ‘not’ to need to piss.

The first spurt came out and he gasped. Then as if the dam inside him broke, the urine rushed out of him with a speed the Scout didn't even know was humanly possible. He moaned, and knew he should probably try to keep his noises to a minimum, but what ever dignity he had was long gone as he felt every muscle in his body go lax. He had no idea how exhausting it was to hold it in for so long, or just how much of a work out it would be.

For a brief moment, when the haze of relief seemed to lift, the Scout realised that his jar was awfully full. 

“Fuck, Snipes i'm gonna need another jar.” 

He didn't think the Sniper heard him and was about to shout as he could see the last few cms of the jar get filled with his waterfall of piss, but luckily the Sniper choose that time to hold another jar in Scout's eye line. He grabbed the jar and shifted himself over to it, not breaking his stream. The thought had crossed his mind to stop, but then what little muscle was left in his bladder protested at the idea.

He heard the Sniper say something and it wasn't until he saw a hand in front of him again that he realised what was being asked of him. “Oh, thanks.” He said as he handed the overflowing jar to the Sniper, a few warm droplets trickled over the edge and onto the Snipers fingers but he didn't seem to care. In fact, in this position, the Scout could very clearly see the bulge in the Sniper's pants.

He almost laughed. Almost. More from sheer disbelief than actually humour. The Sniper moved away quickly and the Scout could hear him fastening the jar. A small part of Scout wondered if he would jarate someone with it.

Or if he would keep it for himself?

The Scout shuddered, he again looked at the jar and for a horrible moment thought he was gonna fill this one too. Luckily his steam died down at the ¾ mark and the Scout didn't have to ask the Sniper for another jar. 

He let out a sigh, and used the lid from the first jar to fasten this one closed. He tucked himself back in and saw the Sniper resolutely looking out the window. The Scout added his second jar to the pile, and thought of mentioning the Sniper obvious tent, but realised he was still too confused and disoriented to say anything. He also didn't exactly want to piss off the man who saved him from the biggest embarrassment on the field.

“Thanks Snipes… I really appreciate it.” He said softly. He was too tired to speak in his usually mile a minute style. The Sniper actually looked surprised at the Scout’s words. 

“Don't mention it… It was no trouble.”

The Scout nodded, and made his way out of the shack.

\---

The Sniper’s concentration was in tatters when the Scout left. All whilst the Scout was in his domain, he tried to focus on the battle, pick off easy targets, and even though there was a Medic standing still for 5 whole seconds he couldn’t make the shot because he was shaking so much.  
The sound of piss leaving the Scout was all he could focus on; the gentle hiss followed by the obscenely loud sound of it entering the jar. All that the Sniper would have been able to handle, if it wasn't for the other noises the Scout was making. 

The moaning. The rushed intakes of breath, and the almost whine he made at one point when he saw how full the jar was getting. When the Sniper had gotten up to change the Scout’s jar, his heart was practically in his throat. He couldn't even attempt to deny how erect he was. His dick was practically straining against his khakis, all he could hope was the Scout hadn't seen it. The shack was dark enough that he hoped that would be the case. Otherwise he knew he would tell everyone. He wouldn't mention his own predicament, of course, but he would blurt out, ‘hey everyone, the filthy Australian gets turned on by piss! Ain't he fucking weird?’ Yes, that’s what he would say, and everyone would laugh.

He tightened his grip on his gun. He had a thick skin, he got picked on a lot growing up. But this was different, that had be for his appearance, which in all honestly the Sniper didn't care much about. So he had a big nose? He didn't care, and the other kids mentioning of it didn't phase him. But when he was first called jar man, when he was called a bush man, when he was made fun of simply for living in a van? It hurt him in a way he couldn't explain. So he accepted his loner character, kept to himself, tried to keep his ears shut when he walked past areas where his team congregated, because he didn't need to hurt.

With a sigh he sat back when the end battle sirens bellowed. His erection had gone down thankfully but he still felt the thrum of it down below. He couldn't figure out why until he looked at the stack of jars.

He saw one on top, full up to the brim, and the Sniper bit his lip.

\---

In his van he placed the jar on his kitchen counter and did his evening chores, he cleaned any dishes, wiped the surfaces, and kept himself busy until late into the evening. He watched TV, but his eyes kept drifting to the jar. ‘Not yet’, his mind would say. ‘Fucking do it’, his dick would reply.

Eventually the clock hit midnight, and he practically leapt from his chair to the counter. He turned on the baby bottle warmer and placed the jar inside. He felt giddy as he waited. He knew how long to wait till it got to the right temperature.

He grabbed the jar and threw it in one of his bags, incase anyone was up and about. He made his way inside of the base, trying to look like he was heading to the kitchen. He however made a sharp left when he hit the showers.

They were empty, thank God. He knew the Pyro used the showers after hours, to get clean when nobody else was around, but the Sniper knew what days they showered, and thankfully today was not one of those days. He went to the cubicle furthest from the door, and began to remove his clothes. The anticipation he was feeling was radiating off of him, his hands were shaking when he finally entered the cuticle. He reached for the jar and held it for a moment, letting the warmth of it spread through his hands and chest. It was cold in the showers, and he felt himself shiver slightly, though he didn't know if it was from the cold or from the anticipation.

He undid the jar and smelt the liquid inside. It was pungent, stronger than his own piss, and it made his cock jump.

He took another deep breath. He really could sit here breathing it for a while longer, but the thought of getting caught did the opposite of heightening his arousal.

Looking into the jar, a part of his brain told him to take a sip. He had never drunk piss before and for some reason drinking his own had never crossed his mind. But a part of his brain couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of this being the Scout’s piss, and how it would taste.

He took a hesitant sip, and for a moment expected a rush of sugar. Instead what he got was an acrid taste, and he made a face at it. It was unpleasant, but he should have expected it would taste like that. If the Scout’s urine was sugary, Sniper would probably have to mention it to him, as the boy would either have super diabetes or kidney failure on the horizon.

Finally the Sniper felt ready, he lifted the jar above him with one hand and with the other snaked it around his dick. He tipped the jar slightly, letting it fall on his chest in a small wave. He gasped and closed his eyes, he had to imagine it was someone actually pissing on him, if he saw it was a jar, whilst he would still cum, it would not be the mind blowing orgasm the Sniper was after. 

“Fuck.” The jar slipped slightly in his hands, and a bigger wave left it and splattered all over the Sniper's body. Warm trickles made there way to his cock and wet the hair there. “Fuuuuck.”

He kept jerking himself, tipping the jar gently to try and keep a constant stream up, but as his concentration dwindled, so too was his ability to do that. The smell was intoxicating. It enveloped him, and with each splash, the scent grew stronger. 

The Sniper briefly wondered how to end this. His usual fashion was to pour the whole jar in one over his cock, but he briefly had an idea. He kept the stream pouring from the jar as he began to raise it from his chest up to his neck. He felt the droplets hit his chin and his breathing jerked.

When he felt the orgasm about to hit, he lifted the jar the remaining distance and began tickling it on his forehead. His moans were louder than ever, as he felt the salty liquid trickle down his face over his closed eyes and into his slightly opened mouth. The taste didn't bother him now, if anything it made him hotter. He opened his mouth wide and move the stream to it. 

It made it better when it was a steam, when he could imagine it coming straight out of a cock rather than a reheated jar. The liquid filled up his mouth and he moaned around the mouthful of piss, and swallowed it greedily, waiting for another mouthful.

But before that happened, he came. His mouth was half filled when it hit him, and he gurgled and pushed the liquid out of his mouth, causing it to run down his chin. He moaned loudly, and tilted the jar to stop its contents from spilling anymore. He opened his eyes to look at it and saw there was still a ¼ of the jar left. He briefly thought of just pouting it down the drain, but he realised that he didn't want to waste it. He put the lid back on and put it back into his satchel before turning back into the shower and turning it on. 

He felt content whilst he washed.

\---

That night the Scout couldn’t sleep. He kept tossing and turning in his bed, and eventually realised that sleep was a lost cause. He got up and flung his blankets off of him. He pulled on his shoes and a baggy old hoody. He needed to run.

The base at night had a completely different atmosphere than during the day. At night it seemed peaceful. During the day it was anything but. It usually had to do with his team being loud as sin. Scout thought he was bad, but he was nothing compared to his teammates. He ran circuits around the base, trying to let his breathing come out even and controlled.

He had stopped to get a pebble out of his shoe when he saw the Sniper leaving the base. 

From afar the Scout could see the Sniper’s hair was wet, that the satchel he carried was being held tightly in his hands. The Scout almost called out but realised that wouldn’t be a good idea. He waited till the Sniper was out of view, safely hidden in his van before picking his pace up again. But his mind was clouded. He wasn't focusing on the pounding of his feet on the ground, he was thinking about the Sniper, about today, about-

Well, piss.

The Scout never really concerned himself with his bodily functions before. He pissed when he needed to, and shit when he needed to. The idea of becoming transfixed on these qualities used to disgust him.

Now he couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was lurking in the back of his mind, when he left the Sniper nest, when he went back into base, when he was eating dinner, and even when he was lying in bed. He was thinking more about piss at that point than he ever had in all 23 years of his life. He was walking now, his run long since forgotten, he brought his hand against his lower abdomen and pressed in. He could feel the need to piss grow slightly when he did. He had already forgotten what the sensation felt like, the urgency, the pain. It was almost pleasurable. 

The Scout could feel himself go red at these thoughts. He really shouldn't be thinking like this out in the open. He made his way back into base as his cock stirred at his confused thoughts. 

By the time he got to bed, he was more awake than when he started. 

\--- 

The next day the Scout sat in the kitchen. He woke up early most days but would spend his time running or working out at the gym. He never really came to the kitchen, but he knew a certain someone who did to help himself to the coffee the Engineer usually made and said person was someone who he really wanted to talk to.

The Sniper came in at ten to 8, and his eyes caught the Scout’s the moment he was through the door. He quickly looked away. The Scout could see the tension in his shoulders as he poured the coffee. When he turned to leave, the Scout spoke. 

“Hey,”

The Sniper’s walk faltered for a half a second. “Hey.” He replied, still moving. The Scout realised he needed to be quick, he jumped out of his seat. 

“I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.” The Sniper stood stock still in the middle of the kitchen, and Scout shifted his weight from foot to foot, he almost added to his sentence, but the Sniper was already in front of him, displaying the few inches he had over Scout.

“I don’t know what game you're playing but you're gonna get nothing out of me.” The Scout made a confused noise. “I'm not falling for it. Piss off.” He stalked out of the room, and the Scout couldn't help the look of pure confusion on his face.

The Spy entered as the Sniper left the room, and the face he made was comical. “Mon dieu, does the man not bathe? I swear he smells like a truck stop whenever I cross paths with him.” As if to insulate his point, he fanned his hand infront of his face. The Scout didn't notice a smell when he was next to the Sniper, if anything he just smelt earthy. But then again the Spy thought anyone who was not drenched in 100 dollar cologne smelled like ass. 

The Scout didn't say anything, but he left soon after the Spy took a seat at the table. He could understand the Sniper’s guardedness. The team wasn't exactly fond of him, and up until yesterday the Scout was the same. 

What had actually changed between the two the Scout couldn’t say. He knew the man about as well as a stranger you meet a your favorite hangout. You know you must have something in common to both be in the same place, but aside from that you know nothing. Even with that deficit, the Scout still felt a pull when he was near the man, it wasn't an attraction rather a fascination. He wanted to know more about him, and he didn't really know how to go about it. 

So like the Scout usually did in these scenarios, he was going to have to wing it. 

\---

It was the next day that the Sniper saw the Scout again. It was briefly as he was heading inside to get a cup of coffee from the kitchen. He had his own coffee, but he didn't want to use it all up before he had a chance to go to the store, so on some days he would suck it up and drink some of the brown water RED called coffee. The Scout was walking along the corridor, earphones in and track suit on. 

He regarded Sniper the same way one would regard an injured dog in the pound, with mild aversion and empathy. The Scout stopped and pulled an earphone out. “Look I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.” He said so suddenly that the Sniper for a moment didn't even think he was being spoken to.

“Uh.” Was all his mouth could produce as his brain tried to form some form of coherent sentence. The Scout gave an exasperated sigh.

“All you need to know is I don't think your gross. I think we’d actually get along swell if we actually tried to, so, do you wanna be friends or do you wanna continue being a hermit?” He said with a steely determination that the Sniper wished he could muster, it would have made his life so much easier. 

“Sure?” He said in a cross between a exhale of breath and a mumble. The Scout gave a nod and the flicker of a smile crossed his face.

He began to put his earphones back in. “Cool.”

And then the Sniper was left alone in the corridor with only the sound of the Scout’s retreating footsteps filling the silence. 

\---

The Scout went to the van instead of going to dining hall. The Sniper never usually came to dinner with the rest of the mercs, opting to stay in his van. He was the victim of many jokes from the team because of his lifestyle, and the Scout couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep away from the general nastiness. The Spy seemed to be the frontrunner in this bitching competition, with the others only giving murmurs of agreements, and the occasional comment if anything had happened on that particular day. Scout sometimes joined in, but now, the idea of sitting in a room whilst they made fun of the man who helped him out when he knew all of the others would have laughed at him lost its appeal.

He knocked on the door, and gave a ‘It’s me, Scout’. The door opened, and the Sniper peered out. “What are you doing here? Aren't you meant to be having dinner?”

The Scout gave a small laugh. “You know you're technically meant to be there too, but I felt like joining you tonight instead of the douchebags” 

The Sniper pulled the door open fully, but then something must have dawned on him as he slammed the door right in his face. “Just a second.” The man called. The Scout heard a bunch of things getting moved around. 

He didn't really blame him for his last minute clean up, he did sort of drop in unannounced. The door was soon open again and the Scout made his way inside. This time without a door nearly hitting him in the face. 

The van was pretty clean. The Scout had expected it to be filthy, the way the Spy went on about it made you think the Sniper lived in an actual bush. Everything was in its place, and there were little touches that the Scout’s eyes went to. A picture of an old couple on the fringe, and little figurine of a koala on the nightstand by the bed. It was actually really cozy. “Wow Snipes, I think you’re actually smarter than all of us with this van thing you got going on.” The Scout said as he walked around. Granted there wasn't much space to walk around. He made his way closer to the bed.

“Well I like my own space, and I like being able to cook, and watch TV and not have to you know-” He gestured outside of the van. “Deal with them.” The Scout nodded.

“Yeah, I getcha. Once you get down to it, I really don't underneath why they talk about you the way they do. They’re all fucking creeps too, so it’s like you're the scapegoat for bitching.” He sat on the bed and picked up the koala. 

He nodded. “Right. What kind of things do they say about me?” He asked. He really didn't want to know, he already knew what they said was bad, and that was just from overhearing it. He didnt even want to know what Scout heard, being in the room with them.

With more tact than the Sniper thought possible for him to display, he gave a half answer. “The same old shit, it gets boring fast. I almost wish they'd turn on someone else just to stop the same old shit getting thrown out.” 

The Snipers face grew dark. “Well if you keep talking to me, you're gonna become the next pariah.” He meant it as an insult, an attempt to show the Scout what he goes through wasn't something to be joked about, but the younger man just shrugged.

“So? I really don't care. If they take me down, i'm taking all of them with me.” The Sniper was about to ask, but the Scout cut him off. “They're all not as secretive as they like to think they are. Seriously, i've noticed things about all of them, and i'm telling you Snipes. When the time is right. I will take em down.” The Sniper was intrigued, and also a little frightened. He expected something like this from the Spy, not the Scout. Then again, maybe that's how he did get this information he was talking about. Everyone was naturally more guarded around the Frenchman, his ability to analyse you, and ascertain information about you from the smallest detail made him feared. The Scout on the other hand?

“Anyway, I am starved. Do you got any food here?” The Scout apparent evil scheming was forgotten as he patted his belly and smiled at the Sniper.

The Australian nodded. “Yeah, I have some rabbit marinating in the fridge, was gonna make kebabs with it. You can-” 

“Yes. Whatever it is you're offering the answer is yes.”

The Sniper smiled.

\---

He pulled out the barbecue. He usually just cooked it on his skillet, but the Scouts enthusiasm for cooking made him want to push the boat out. He talked at the Sniper whilst he was prepping the meat, saying how he helped his mother cook when he was growing up, and how he didn't like how the meals here were all reheated microwave ones. The Sniper asked him to chop up the salad to go with the meat, and also some onions to go on the kebabs. The Sniper found himself just listening the Scout yammering. He threw in a word or two, but for the most part just tuned into the Scout’s voice. He rarely had conversations here, the closest he got was when he used the Engineer's dispenser and the two chatted briefly, he also talked to the Heavy, but everyone else he tended to stay clear of.

“Anyway, I spent like two hours icing the cookies and then my brother Aaron comes in and eats one and doesn't even say thank you! Or, that was good. He just eats it and leaves, and that really pissed me off you know, cause I worked fucking hard on them. The least they could do is say a ‘thank you’.” The Scout chopped the onions quickly and with a knife skill the Sniper did not expect.

“When did you learn to chop so well?” He asked in the middle of the Scout’s tirade. Without stopping his chopping he lifted his eyes to the Sniper.

“Oh this?” He grabbed a tomato once he’d finished the onions. “I dunno, ma used always ask me to chop shit when I cooked with her, and she’d usually ask me how fast I could do it and I always wanted to be faster than the last time so now I can do it really fast. Of course, I accidently cut myself a few times, but now I got the hang of it, so it's kinda easy.” The Sniper nodded, and realised he really liked this side of the Scout. The side that wasn’t all bravado and insults, the side that was genuinely nice, and his stories weren't mean spirited, they were actually kind of cute. The Sniper’s favourite being the time he was caught eating icing from the bowl and denied it to his mother, not realising he had it all over his face.

“Kebabs are done. I'm gonna put them in the grill. We can finish the salad after they’re cooked.”

It was cool out, the sun just starting to go down by the time the Sniper pulled off the grill lid and put the rabbit on. There wasn't a lot of it, usually the Sniper would eat it all for himself, but he managed to bulk it out with the onions and mushrooms, so he hoped it did look as pathetic.

“Damn Snipes, that smells so good.” The Scout leaned closer to the grill and sniffed hard. “Fuck, what marinade is it.” He moved to where the Sniper was sitting next to the grill, on an old deck chair. The Scout sat in the one next to him. 

“Just a bit of rosemary, garlic and lemon. Oh, and some honey to give it a little sweetness.” The Sniper said, turning the kebabs over.

“Well it smells fucking good. I wanna eat it so bad. Seriously Snipes, you have no idea how bad the food in the base is, I haven't even tasted your food yet, but I know it's gonna be better than the gruel they give us.” 

The Sniper smiled. “Why don't you go finish the salad whilst I keep an eye on the meat.” The other got up and made his way back inside, keeping the caravan door open. He could hear the Scout pottering around inside, and it felt comforting, just having someone else's presences round. 

He was turning the meat when he heard the Scout call. “Yo Snipes, do you got any like mustard and oil and shit? I wanna knock up a dressing?” 

The Sniper called back “Yeah, in the bottom cupboard, next to the cutlery draws.” He said the words before he realised- 

‘That’s where I hid the bottle warmer.’ 

He bit his lip, willing himself not to jump up and interfere, the Scout probably wouldn’t even put together what he used it for, he briefly thought of excuses for why he had it and settled on to warm up milk if he couldn't sleep. It was flimsy, but it was better than ‘to warm up piss’. He didn't get a comment from the Scout, he doubted he would even if he had noticed it.

“My ma taught me how to make dressing. Instead of just sitting and stirring; throw it in a jar and shake the shit out of it.” He walked out to the doorway and kept shaking the jar as he stood. The Sniper wanted to tell him what had been in that jar, but as if the Scout was reading his mind- “I know you piss in them, but I sniffed the jar and it smelt clean so.” He shrugged and went back into the van, and the Sniper gulped. He really was a clever kid.

The Scout came back out holding two empty plates and some cutlery and the bowl containing the dressed salad. “I only put a bit of the dressing on, incase you didn't like it. It ain't too fancy, just mustard, oil, lemon and salt. I can grab the jar if you want more.” He served out small piles of salad onto the plates and handed one to Sniper, who then put the meat on. 

“I’m sure it's great scout.” It felt weird saying his name. The Scout seemed to have no trouble with this type of interaction, but the Sniper felt like he was a bumbling teenager whenever he spoke. “Pass me that plate, and you can have this one.” 

When all the food was dished out they started eating. Immediately the Scout moaned. “Hoe lee SHIT, that is good. Like fucking Christ Snipes, you need to be a chef. This is amazing.”

The Sniper blushed, and muttered a quick thank you. He bit into the Scout’s salad and liked the sour lemon with the spicy mustard. “This dressing is really good.” 

And the Scout did something the Sniper didn't expect, he blushed and pulled his cap down to cover his eyes. “Eh, it no biggy, like I said, it's pretty simple.” The Sniper had never seen the Scout so humble.

The Scout regaled him with some more stories about his life before RED and the Sniper listened to them intently. When they finished eating they cleaned up and made their way back inside, the nighttime air was getting colder, and what little heat was radiating from the grill wasn't enough to keep the two from shivering. In the van, the small space with two people in it meant that it soon warmed up again. 

They ended up watching TV after they had cleaned the plates, the Sniper in his chair and the Scout reclined on his bed. It was just reruns and the reception was pretty terrible but the Scout didn't seem to care as he quoted lines and laughed at the same gag that the Sniper could only assume he'd seen several times before. 

Even just watching TV with another person made it so much more enjoyable, the Sniper didn't even consider pulling out a beer to help ease the monotony of the shows when the Scout was here watching them with such enjoyment. After a while the quoting slowed down and the laughing became more spaced and the Sniper realised that the Scout was falling asleep.

He turned off the TV and the Scout made a confused noise. “Some on boy, off to bed. You're dead on your feet.” The Sniper said gently, he turned on the bed side lamp. The Scout rolled over and made another noise.

“You’re dead on your feet.” He muttered. “But you’re right, I better go. It was nice hanging with you Snipes. Can we-” Another blush. “-Do it again sometime, unless i'm bothering you in which case-” 

“I’d really like that Scout.” He said before he could get into another tirade. The Scout’s face lit up. 

“Awesome! Thanks Snipes.”

“Don't mention it Scout.” He said with a smile.

\---

Over the next few evenings, they spent more time together. If the team noticed they didn't mention anything. It was strange, having the Scout’s presence around enough for it to start to feel normal.

It was on the morning of battle when it went down hill.

The Sniper was in resupply waiting for battle to start. He was in the corner, trying his best to ignore everything going on around him. He would cast his eyes around occasionally and when he did he saw the Scout talking to the team like he always did. The Sniper felt his gut twist at the idea of the Scout being this blatantly two faced. Maybe it was because he knew he would never be capable of doing it. Or maybe it was something else.

When the siren rang, instead of the Scout being the first one out he hung back, and waited till everyone else had left just like the Sniper usually did. The Australian raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise ignored him on his walk up to his nest. When he got in and made himself comfortable. The Scout came knocking a few minutes later.

“You know if you keep coming in here they’re gonna notice you're not on the field.” He said loud enough for the Scout to hear. 

“So?” He heard him say back.

“Just piss off and be useful for once.” The Sniper snapped. He didn't mean for it to sound so hateful, but before he could try to explain himself, the Scout was in his scope, running and beating the shit out of everyone who crossed his path. He was like a hurricane and the Sniper bit his lip.

Fuck. He really fucked up. Like massively. He tried to focus on the battle, but what he said kept ringing in his ears. The more he replayed it the more it didn’t sound like him. As if someone had possessed him for those few seconds and made him say it. 

But he did say it. He sighed again. He really wasn't built for relationships. Even the ones with his parents were awful. They rarely called him, and when they did it was to try and dissuade him from his career choice. He finally got a person in his life who was okay with him being a pariah and he told him to piss off. To be useful. The piss off would have been enough, but why did he have to tell him to be useful? Would the Scout even want to talk to him after this? Would this be the straw that broke the camel's back? Would he walk in on the team all laughing at him the next day, and when he turned to look the Scout would be there, a smug grin on his face? 

He could feel a cold sweat coming on, even now he could see the sheer unadulterated anger emanating off the Scout as he fought. He wasn't even using his gun, using his speed and agility to jump in the air and dive bomb people; crashing them to the ground and pelting them with his bat until they were dead. At one point, when the cart was devoid of all BLU’s the Scout stood still and looked towards the Sniper's nest. It was a brief glance, devoid of all emotion. The Sniper would have been more comforted if he saw anger, sadness, anything. But all he saw was a mask. 

And the Sniper was unsettled by the idea of what was under it. 

He managed to pick off one or two BLU’s as the battle progressed, but after awhile they pushed further than his nest could see, so he got up and ran to his next perch. He usually stayed in his first nest when the battle moved as he would just pick off the BLU’s as they ran from respawn, but the air of his hut seemed stifling as he sat and he needed to leave. 

The perch he moved to was secluded and away from battle but otherwise was a good place for him to pick off targets. He would check behind him regularly, but was still caught off guard when he heard the metallica crack behind him. He whirled around to see a steadily unlocking Spy falling to the ground and behind him the Scout. The Sniper looked at him like a rabbit looks at oncoming traffic, but before anything more stupid came out him mouth the Scout spoke. “We’ll talk later.” He said bluntly, before jumping down the verge the Sniper was laying on. He nodded to no one, and suddenly wanted the battle to go into overtime.

\--- 

The Sniper waited dutifully in his van for the Scout. They had made a routine of it; the Scout would go into the base, bathe, talk to the team for a bit, maybe eat if the food on offer was half way decent and then make his way out to see Sniper. They didn't always eat dinner together, mainly due to the Sniper not having too much food in his van to begin with. Slogging out everyday just to get food did not appeal to him, and when the Scout realise the Sniper was eating canned food because of his presence at dinner, they soon came up with this compromise.

Thinking about these things was not helping the tension from building up in him. He and Scout had a good thing going, and the Sniper had a feeling when he came in here that good thing was gonna crack and turn to ash in front of him. When he heard the knock, it wasn't the comic one the Scout usually did, it was a hard rapt. Quick and efficient. The Sniper gulped as he got up.

When the opened the door the Scout was looking directly at him which immediately put the Sniper’s hackles up. His heartbeat increased as he stepped back and the Scout made his way inside. The cramped area never used to be a problem for the two of them, but now it seemed like they may as well have been in a cupboard.

The Scout walked to the Sniper’s bed and sat on it, at least that hasn’t changed the Sniper thought. He himself made no move to sit, or try and look comfortable, because he wasn’t, and he wanted to know the Scout know that.

“So, what the fuck crawled up your ass today?” The Scout said bluntly with no hint of mirth in his voice.

“Nothing.” The Sniper said, and immediately the Scout’s eyes narrowed. “I just-”

“You were just an asshole for no reason?” 

“I wasn't trying to upset you, it just came out like that.” The Sniper realised he was being given an opportunity to explain himself and he wasn't doing it because-

Because it was the most pathetic reason ever.

“Okay….” The Scout leant back more on the bed, using the wall to rest against. “So, what, may I ask was the reason for you to be in such a bad mood that you had to take it out on me? Like battle had just started. Did a bird crap on you on the way to your nest?” The venom in the Scout’s voice was gone. It still wasn't his usual tone, but it was putting the Sniper more at ease.

“You’d think I'm pathetic if I tell you.”

And then with more sincerity than his mother when she said she loved him, the Scout said. “I wouldn't ever find you pathetic.” It made the Sniper’s cheeks flush, as well as what he was about to say all the more difficult.

“Okay, but I warned you.” The Sniper sighed. “I don't like seeing you with the other mercs. When you laugh with them, it just makes me think that ‘this-”’ He gestured to the space between he and Scout. “-is an act.”

The Scout smiled at him, but it was a tiny thing created from fondness. “You're right it is an act.” The Sniper physically feel his heart drop. “I act different around them. With you, I can be myself. I don't hang out with any of those douchebags outside of battle and food cause they all suck.” The Scout waved a dismissive hand towards the general area of the base. “So you were just angry cause you thought I was faking?” The Scout asked.

A shrug. “There was more to it I suppose. Like how two faced you seem to be. You call ‘em douche bags, but then you chummy to their faces.”

The Scout laughed at this. “Snipes sometimes you gotta be nice to people you hate cause they’d make your life hell if you didn’t. They know it’s fake, and they’re fake right back at you. If you’re a douche, it just means they can be a douche and then everything goes to crap. So you may aswell just suck it up and be chummy.”

“I’ve never been good at it… The whole being nice when I don’t like someone thing, especially when they are an ass to me.” The Sniper made his way onto the bed and sat down next to the Scout, closer than was probably normal, but he needed a bit of closeness right now.

“Eh, it just means you're a good person. I'm a massive douchebag so I can do this sort of shit no problem.” The Scout said, as though it was common fact.

The Sniper balked at him. “You’re not a douchebag Scout.” The Scout didn’t say anything but did smile at him. Letting his body fall to the side he rested his head on the Sniper’s shoulders. They sat like that for a while before Sniper suggested he turned on the TV.

\---

The Sniper had never been more horny in his life.

Ever since moving out of his family home, wanking became something of a routine. In the evening before bed, the Sniper would usually spend this time getting his rocks off, but sadly he has been unable to do so because of a very persistent Scout.

He wasn’t angry with him, far from it. The Sniper hadn’t laughed as much as when the Scout was about. The guy seemed to have an endless list of stories each one funnier than the last, and most nights he would end up falling asleep on the Sniper’s bed, and the Sniper would join him. It used to be an event that happened every other day, but as the two got closer the Scout spent more of his time in the van and with the Sniper. The Sniper wanted to ask him for maybe one night off and pretend he needed to go into town and buy supplies. But the last time he told the Scout this he had asked if he could come along, and the Sniper regrets ever letting the Scout near a fully stocked candy aisle. 

Luckily the Scout seemed to solve the dilemma for him.

“Yo Snipes, I’m gonna be working out this evening. I’ve sort of been neglecting my cardio, is that cool?” The Sniper had been reading when the Scout spoke, when he looked up he saw the Scout was looking up from his own reading material. War of the World’s. When the Scout had spotted it on the Sniper’s book shelf he’d picked it up and started reading it. The Sniper had never actually gotten round to reading it and was surprised when the Scout said he had read it 3 times already. ‘It’s a cool book, it’s got aliens and shit.’

He tried not to look too excited by the prospect of an evening alone, he really didn't want to give the Scout the wrong impression. So he shrugged. “Sure, that’s fine. I'll probably just watch TV or something.” He went back to reading, and saw the Scout nod slightly before going back to his own book. 

They did this sometimes. Just sit and read. The Sniper looked back up at the Scout once the younger man resumed reading. He made the cutest expressions whils he read. Wincing when something bad happened, letting a tiny smile onto his lips when something good occured. It was nice just to have him there, even if they weren’t talking.

The Sniper didn't make much headway with his own book. Opting to stop reading and take a nap. When he woke up it was late in the evening and the book Scout had been reading was closed on his bed with a little note.

‘Finished it. Thought I may as well start my work out now. Hope you had a nice nap.’ A small smiley face was drawn next to the note along with a crude drawing of what the Sniper hoped was a thumbs up. He looked out of the window into the star lit sky and smiled.

He had time to kill. He wasn't going to go jumping into anything just because he had an evening to himself. Though he did have to suppress a shudder when he opened the bottom cupboard to get his coffee cup and saw the baby bottle warmer. He closed it quickly.

He sat with his coffee and reached for the book the Scout had been reading, deciding now was as good a time as any to start.

\----

He managed to read one chapter before he couldn't take anymore. 

He tried to read more, but the words were getting muddled up, and his mind was far from the pages in front of him. When it hit 11 he was so restless he got up, and made his way to the door of his caravan, only to stop himself just short. It was still early, the possibility of people still being awake was high, but then again the Sniper had made overtures into the base at this time before and the only person he had seen was the Pyro skulking around the showers and on very, very rare occasions the Spy. 

It was rare to see him as he so rarely wanted to be seen. It had been by complete accident when the Sniper did actually see him, he’d been heading into the base after he’d run out of coffee in his caravan and as he moved toward the kitchen he saw the tell tale shimmer of an invisible Spy in the distance. He’d ducked behind a corner and when he looked out again the Spy was gone. He didn’t know what he had been doing and a part of him itched to find out. When he vacated from his hiding spot and walked toward the kitchen he noticed the Pyro walking down the corridor, their methodical steps ringing in the quiet. He passed, with not so much as a grunt and the Sniper made his coffee and left. 

The base thankfully was empty when he entered. He had been holding in his piss most of the evening, nothing gut busting in volume, but enough. All the lights were off and when he entered the shower and did a sweep of the stalls to check no one else was there. He made his way to the furthest stall and removed his clothes and piled them on the floor. He reached for his bag and took a jar out of his satchel. 

Inside the stall he let out all the piss he had been holding in. He couldn’t help the small sigh that left him at the feeling. When he was finished he inspected the jar's contents. It was almost a jars worth, just a touch under, but it would do. He sat down on the tiled floor and began stroking his dick with one hand whilst holding the jar in the other. 

That’s when the lights came on.

In a mere moment the Sniper’s heart seemed to beat a hundred times and stop. He heard a whistle and for a horrifying moment he thought it was the Spy, he made a move to empty the jar down the plug hole.

“Snipes?” He heard the Scout call, his footsteps coming closer. He wanted to shrink away into the wall. “Is that you? Or did someone steal all your clothes and leave them in the shower.” The footsteps stopped just shy of his stall. The Sniper hid the jar in the corner of the cubicle and stood up quietly. 

“Yeah, I was just gonna a shower.” He leant out slightly, keeping his body out of view from the Scout. “It was hot in the van and I was getting all sweaty.” He could see the Scout himself was red in the face and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Good workout?” 

The Scout smiled. “Oh yeah, it was great. Did 50 laps, and a few reps and stuff but now i'm looking forward to a nice shower and bed.” He paused. “I don't suppose you bought any of your shower shit. I left mine in the gym and I can't be assed to go back and get it.”

He shook his head. “‘fraid not. But there may be something in one of the other shower stalls that you could use.”

“Good thinking.” The Scout turned and looked through all of the cubicles. The Sniper weighed out the chances of him being able to do up the lid of the jar and put it in his satchel before the Scout returned. He could see the lid, just poking from his open stachel, taunting him. But the Scout soon returned and he sighed and eyed the jar wearily. It seemed to laugh at his misfortune. 

The shower next to him turned on and he heard the Scout’s voice. “Found some body wash. Did you want any?” The Sniper himself turned on the water and uttered an affirmative grunt and before he realised it he was pelted in the head with a bottle of shower gel. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, and the bottle careened to the floor, and the Sniper could only watch with wide eyes and abject horror as it hit the jar in the corner. 

The jar wobbled and the entire contents spread across the shower floor, and whilst the Sniper was helpless to stop it, some of the contents bridged the gap underneath his and the Scout’s stalls. 

Already the rather pungent smell of urine seemed to amplify with the hot water, and if that wasn’t enough the Scout only needed to look down to see what had transpired.

Which he must have done as the water cut off and without a word the Scout stood in front of his cubicle.

He was naked. So was he, but this didn't even seem to affect the Scout who had a suspiciously neutral face. He looked around the shower and when his eyes hit the jar he made a curious expression. “Okay. You can either tell me what happened, or, I can go back into my cubicle and pretend none of this happened. Your choice.” He looked at him in the eyes and the Sniper gulped at the intensity. The Scout’s expression softened. “I know which one I want you to pick.” He edged slightly backwards.

“Wait!” The Scout's eyes widened. “I’ll tell you… But not here. I don’t think it would be appropriate.” The Scout nodded.

“I’ll meet you in your van.”

The Sniper had no choice but to nod.

\---

If it was possible the Sniper could feel his heart seize and forcibly eject each pump of blood it made. It came with such strength and intensity as he waited in the van. 

After the Scout had gone back to his cubicle, the Sniper had thrown his things into his arms and ran from the room. He did not care if anyone saw him. It was only when he entered the van that he felt the most minute semblance of calm. It was short lived, as with each passing minute ticking by it only served to remain the Sniper he was expecting a visitor.

And what was he going to say? Unlike a more sane person, whom may have used this time to put together a cohesive argument, the Sniper just sat and stared forlornly at the door, waiting for the quick knocking that signified the Scout’s presence. 

He could hear the crunching of gravel even before the Scout had gotten to the door and that still didn't prepare him for the sound of the knock. He got up on shaky legs and made his way to the door. He was taking an inordinately long time to do so considering it was a grand total of five steps from his bed to the door, yet he still managed to drag it out for a minute. Perhaps he hoped the Scout would get fed up and leave, but he must have been kidding himself for even considering that as a possibility.

The door swung open and the Scout was standing away from it, looking away onto the horizon. He afforded the Sniper a glance before jerking his head towards the dead grass. The Sniper hopped out and shivered at the cold. “So, whats up?” The Scout asked once they were further away from the compound. It was silent aside from the occasional gust of wind that would rattle the straw like grass. 

He looked up and over to the Scout who was giving him his full attention. Considerate and calm, with only a hint of suspicion. It was strange, the Sniper felt himself bubble with an unrecognisable emotion as he spoke. “I-” He couldn’t continue and kicked the ground, the dust from the floor drifted into the air and floated by with the next gust.

“Lemme try again…” The Scout walked so he was in front of the Sniper’s wondering gaze. “Talk to me.” 

He held such fierce determination in his eyes that the Sniper could feel his mouth bobbing as it tried to produce any words that may appease him. But he didn't know what. “I- I…” He frowned and stared resolutely at the floor. “I like piss.”

It sounded unreal to his ears and for a moment the Sniper wondered if he actually spoke English at that moment or if he had been the crazed ramblings of a mad man. 

The Scout kept looking at him and his eyes still burned with that quiet unease. “Is that it?” 

“What do you mean ‘is that it?’” The Sniper asked with only mild disbelief. “What else were you expecting?” 

The Scout didn't seemed to know himself as he looked off again into the horizon. There was only one lonely cloud floating along in the night sky, next to the seeming endless abyss of stars. “I thought you were-” The Scout sighed. “I mean I already knew about the piss thing, that's obvious, but-”

“Wait, what do you mean it's obvious?” The Sniper folded his arms and watched the Scout intently, as he gave him a look of faint irritation.

“You’re for real ain't ya? You actually think you were sneaky...” The Scout gave him a fond smile. “Snipes you were rock hard when I pissed in front of you.” 

If it was possible for the Sniper to have all of the blood in his body rush to his face it occurred in that moment. He felt the denial waiting on his tongue but the warm look the Scout gave him didn't make him want to say it.

“Also, the shit just now with the jar in the shower. I ain't Sherlock but I think I can figure what you were gonna do with it.” Again the Sniper gave a shudder of embarrassment. “I mean, is there not like, anything else you wanna tell me?” 

“Like what?” 

A smile. “...Like, that you’re into me?” 

The wind seemed to stop with those words and all the Sniper could hear was his own breath and heartbeat as well as the Scout’s, although he was pretty sure the latter was from his mind's hyper activity at that point. He didn't know what to say as he looked at the man in front of him. The Scout himself looked lost as he seemed to wait for the Sniper to speak. Right, speaking. The Sniper should speak now. Right at the moment. Right-

“I know it’s fucked up and we’re just friends and all, but I really like you and you make me laugh and you’re not like the douchebags on our team, and I gotta admit ever since I pissed in front of you I am kinda into that shit so, I was hoping that maybe you felt-”

The Sniper didn’t say anything and the Scout gave an exasperated sigh. “Say something!” He threw his arms down as he spoke and though he would vehemently deny it later there was a tell tale crack in the Scout’s voice as he said these words.

“I thought we already were together.” He said with an honesty that surprised even himself.

Another lapse of silence as what the Sniper said seemed to dawn on the other man. It was a subtle shift in expression, the way his unsure look seemed to evaporate and a smile began to pull along his lips. “We are kinda already dating, ain’t we?” He said warmly.

The Sniper nodded. “If you wanna add more stuff to that, I guess we could.” The Scout didn't reply, but he did give a bob of the head as he inched forward towards the Sniper. He could feel his heart pounding as he approached but unlike earlier where it seemed to feel like a strain of the muscle, it was now a gentle pulse punctuated by the Scout’s approaching steps. His lips felt gentle on his skin, and for the second time the Sniper felt surprised at there not being a rush of sugar when he came into contact with the Scout. He pulled away and though his face was flushed pink he grinned a smile full of teeth at the Sniper. 

“I’m glad you spilt piss on me tonight.” The Scout said softly and gave a chuckle as the Sniper sputtered. 

\---

After that every interaction with Scout was as it usually was. In battle they afforded each other a steely professionalism, comments when needed but nothing unnecessary. Then the Scout would slip off after battle to train and relax before making his way over to the Sniper's van for the evening. It was strange how easily it all happened, he expected there to be more awkward fumbling especially where he was involved, but instead the interaction grew naturally, with more talking and occasionally formative kisses. It was during one of their late night chats that they had found out eachothers names. It had been in the quiet of the caravan, in a barely audible octave that the Scout had spoken. “Walter. My name is Walter. Though by brothers call me Walt for short.” He had turned to look at the Sniper.

“Oswald. Oz for short.”

They didn't make it a habit of saying there names outside of the van, they barely even said them in the van, perhaps fearing the familiarly and therefore risk of accidentally saying it where others could hear it. Names were a big no no in the War, even between team mates, and it was something that neither wanted to get reprimanded for. The Sniper didn't mind though as he still enjoyed how the Scout would drawl his shortened title in the middle of battle, and if anything the way the Scout said Snipes, may as well have been him saying his name.

He was still an awful kisser, but apparently the Scout was aswell or couldn't even tell as he made no complaint or comment over the inadequacy. It never escalated however, with Sniper always pushing him away when it got too heated. It wasn't that he didn't want to take things further, as looking up at Scout’s half lidded eyes after there kisses got on the verge of too intense made him want to throw him on the bed and go to town. It had to do with the Sniper’s own crippling self doubt that even though the Scout was here, kissing him, being with him; he was lying. That it was all some cruel joke. 

It kept prodding his mind whenever they kissed, that the one time they would take it further the Sniper would walk in the next day to see the Scout laughing with the rest of their team about what had occurred the previous night. The thought haunted him, and he couldn't bring himself to press on.

The Scout, being more perceptive than the Sniper ever seemed to give him credit for, managed to nip this belief in the bud before it could develop any further. It had started when he had pushed the other away again after a lengthy make out session. He was enjoying it immensely but the small demon that seemed to lurk in the Sniper's mind jolted awake along with his burgeoning erection and he had to stop and push the other away. The Scout kept his expression oddly level as he pulled back and for a moment. He let his eyes close, he breathed in deep and exhaled it slowly, before opening his eyes again. “You okay?” He asked.

The Sniper was just starting to understand how the Scout’s questions worked. Usually the Scout knew the answer to whatever he asked, and the question was just to get the person he was asking to talk and admit it to themselves. The Sniper gave a shaky nod to which the Scout quirked an eyebrow. The Sniper pushed the Scout off further and got up to make himself a coffee, when he chanced a look back to his bed he saw the Scout looking at him intently, he tried to ignore it.

”Are you okay?” He asked again, and this time there was no softness in his voice, only the calm and methodical voice of a man on a mission. The Sniper bit his lip at the inquest but couldn't blame the Scout. He was like a bloodhound with this sort of thing, and he knew the more he pestered the more the Sniper’s resolve would break and end up benefiting them both for the better.

“You know the answer.” He said as he poured the water into his mug, he stirred the contents together and waited for it to brew further before taking a sip. The Scout still had his contemplative face on. 

He gave a very slow set of nods. “You still think i'm pulling your leg.” 

He knew it was childish. When he heard the Scout express it, it was like feeling his heart being pulled out and exposed. He told Scout a lot about his childhood and how he never truly ever thought anyone, of their own volition would ever like him to any degree. His friends left him when he was younger. When he was a hunter, he didn't have any, and now, he only had one. That one was pretty amazing, but if the demon in Sniper's head was to be believed he was also a manipulative wanker. 

Well, he ‘was’ a manipulative wanker. The Sniper couldn't deny that. He knew the Scout could be as two faced as Harvey Dent. It was like two pieces of conflicting information were trying to make peace in the Sniper's mind and neither could get a foothold and win. They just ceaselessly pushed against each other, one getting a lead for a day, only for the other to make a surprise comeback. He knew the Scout liked him, but he also knew he was good at lying. 

“Okay, this has got to stop.” The Scout slapped his hands against his thighs and the Sniper was pulled from his reverie of thought. “What can I do to convince you this isn't some elaborate rouse? Like, seriously, short of letting you fuck me in front of everyone I don't see what I can do.” 

The Sniper felt his cheeks redden at the idea, before a crashing sense of indignation swallowed him. “Look, I get this is frustrating for you, but I can't help the way I feel.” He said in a more level voice than he felt capable of producing

Sensing the tripped on a nerve, the Scout backtracked with a sigh. “Snipes. I like you. So much. Like, you are freakin’ awesome. I don't care about the team, all I care about is you.” He said earnestly and the Sniper could feel the ‘he likes you’ side gain a significant lead in his mind, only to have its nemesis grab its leg. 

“Prove it.” The Sniper said without any forethought as to how he would be able to. Even in the Sniper's own mind the idea of proving it was more of a theory than something that concrete could happen. He knew it was silly and childish to try and get the Scout to accomplish this act that the Sniper was unsure could even be accomplished.

The Scout seemed to sense the Sniper was unsure of how to prove this idea and didn't ask him for clarification. He did purse his lips and go quiet for a while though. The Sniper sipped his coffee and didn't disturb him. He watched his little chest rise and fall with each breath and let his mind get absorbed by the repetitive movement. “I have an idea-” 

The Scout said it to the caravan and whilst some part of the Sniper was paying attention to what he said a majority of him was still focused on the breathing. Like a messenger relaying a recording, the words drifted up through the Sniper’s conscious thought until what was said hit him. 

‘Piss on my face.’

“You what?” He asked dragging his eyes upwards, the Scout’s own face was carefully guarded and the Sniper wondered if he heard correctly.

“I said, piss on my face. Think about it. You piss on my face and it's humiliating for me, so if I am a lying asshole I end up with egg on my face too. It also has the added bonus of being something sexual we can do to each other. You piss on me. I jerk off. Happy fun times.” The Scout shrugged. “Or we can go back to our blue ball make out sessions. Your choice.”

\---

He made his choice.

They went in the showers, and on their way there they saw the Pyro entering before them, the Pyro seemed to sense their presence however and quickly turned on them.

The Pyro watched them, their head inclined to the side, and they gestured to the showers and made a series of grunts which the Sniper assumed was them trying to speak. The Scout said, “we’re gonna shower Py, you're welcome to join us though.” The Pyro seemed to make a series of frustrated grunts before gesturing between them and the showers. They then shook their head and eventually stormed past the two. It happened occasionally, times where the Pyro and Sniper crossed paths. It was very rare as both had the habit of avoiding the other, but the Pyro never got this volatile when it happened. The Sniper almost said he would shower tomorrow night. But he didn’t. 

The Sniper let go of a breath he had been holding and the Scout did not seem to understand, or perhaps didn't care about what had just transpired. They walked into the room and saw the lights were off, the Scout hurried his steps and moved past each cubicle peering in, the Sniper voiced that the place was likely empty, and also that the Sniper usually went in the back corner cubicle anyway, but the Scout still looked around.

They both started stripping in silence. The Scout was naked first and moved into the cubicle. He sat on the floor and brought his legs up to his chest, the Sniper watched him as he could scarcely believe what he was about to do.

He had thought about it a lot growing up, when he first found out about his preferences, the idea of doing it with other people. But then seeing how they all recoiled at the mere mention of it, it made the Sniper assume he would never get an opportunity to truly express this side of himself to anyone. 

But then the Scout appeared and all of that changed.

He had been holding it from the time the Scout suggested this idea. The Sniper questioned the validity of it as a way of showing himself that the Scout was ‘truly’ interested. However, he knew that they couldn't keep going on like this. The Sniper needed to trust the Scout and if they were going to get anywhere they needed to start somewhere. 

He wanted to go back and suggest maybe just starting with mutual handjobs, but seeing the Scout’s blue eyes staring up at him from the shower floor as he was fully aware of what was about to happen to him he couldn't bring himself to say much of anything. He gave a small grunt as he approached, and the Scout leant back, bringing his legs forward and apart. The Sniper felt his heart and cock swell at the sight of the Scout erection. He was into this. He was ‘really’ into this.

The Scout shut his eyes as he tilted his head back, the Sniper knew he should piss soon before his erection made it an issue, but he could help but marvel at the Scout's body, the lithe muscles all strained as he waited. The Sniper toyed with the idea of not going immediately, just to see the other wiggle and huff. Patience was not the Scout’s forte, for the Sniper however, if was his life. He needed patience to kill and he decided the Scout was going to get a bit of that patience right now.

After a minute of this Scout cracked an eye, he saw the Sniper’s expression and immediately opened the other. “Uh Snipes?” He said as the Sniper smirked back down at him. The Scout gave a slow roll of his head as he changed positions, from leaning to crossed legs. “Aren't you gonna…?” The Scout rolled his hand and gave a small shrug with his shoulders. The Sniper didn't say anything as he stood and watched, the Scout seemed to get restless at the silence, and kept moving around on the tiled flooring, changing how he sat with increasing frequency. Eventually the Scout made a soft growl and pushed himself up onto his knees right by the Sniper’s cock.

He should have expected the Scout to get pushy, but for some reason the forwardness took him aback. He gave a half step back and what ever confidence he held was dropped in an instance. “Wait, Scout-” But the Scout’s lips were on him and the Sniper convulsed at the contact. 

He had never received head before. He had only had sex a few times and even then it was with subpar partners, who woke up not remembering their own names let alone what they had done. The Sniper was unsure of how to act at this moment so he just stood ramrod straight as the Scout peppered kisses along his shaft. It was an amazing feeling, and he could feel himself getting lost in the gentle touches.

He felt his bladder clench as the Scout sucked on his head, the muscle there seeming to spasm at the contact, he tried to pull back and the Scout seemed to know what he was doing as his tongue roughly grazed the slit of his cock. 

A rivlet of urine trickled out and the Sniper gasped as he tried to hold onto it all. He hadn't needed to go this bad a moment ago, but the pressure on his cock as well as the hand that the Scout had brought up to rub his lower abdomen was making it hard to keep focus. The Scout would rub, and then press down on the slight bulge, but when he pressed was random, and the Sniper was unprepared every time. He barely managed to keep hold of the dam within him begging to burst and each time another trickle came out, the Scout would lick it up like it was the melting residue of ice cream on a cone.

The Scout’s other hand was on his own erection, but as time ticked on, the hand began snaking its way up the Sniper’s leg before rested on his ass. The Sniper barely had time to register the contact before the hand was between his cheeks, with one finger circling his hole.

He moaned loudly into the empty shower room, and the Scout kept up the pressure. The pressure on his ass, on his stomach and on his cock. He didn’t know why he was trying to hold back, and almost as an after though he let go and doused the Scout with his piss. He brought his arms up to support himself on the doorway of the shower and held himself upright even as he felt his legs start to give up on him. The Scout didn't pull away and kept his hands rubbing. When the Sniper cracked open an eye it was to the image of the Scout’s eyes closed, with his mouth wide and piss gushing in.

If the Sniper had a camera he'd have taken a picture, he tried to take in every detail of this moment, to keep it and lock it away for when he needed it. Even if this was all fake, even if it was a joke, he knew he'd have this moment at least. 

When he was finished the Scout went back to sucking on the Sniper, he stood and peered down with what he hoped came across as affection. The Scout occasionally let his half lidded eyes drift up, but it was only ever brief, and the Sniper realised how pretty the Scout was. He had buck teeth sure, but his face was slim and cheeks prominent, and the Sniper felt a certain fondness when ever he looked upon him.

He came and when he did the Scout lapped it up the same way he had his piss. It was strange for it to be over, the haze of pleasure that enveloped the Sniper was hastily snatched away and he felt the cold of the room.

The lights snapped on suddenly and the Sniper recoiled, slamming himself against the wall. The Scout ducked his head out to see what was happening. 

He heard a clap, slow and loud echoing across the wide expanse, the Sniper seized like a rabbit in headlights and was barely aware of the Scout standing up. 

“Well, well, well. This certainly was unexpected.” The Spy drawled as he uncloaked, the red smoke of his disguise kit cocooning him, the Sniper’s skin felt like ice as he stood exposed and powerless to do anything. The Scout leaned against the wall of the shower, using his own body to shield the Sniper. 

He rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s you. What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice oddly level, though the Sniper could sense a drop of malice in his tone.

The Spy took a step forward, and seemed to jerk his head forward with each step, like a pigeon would, before pulling it back. “I was walking through the base when I heard the most curious sound, I thought it was nothing but you can never be too sure.” He peered around before staring pointedly at the Scout. “So, you and the bushman? A shame, I always thought you could do better.” The Spy said as he inspected his gloved hand.

The Sniper couldn't see the Scout’s face from this angle, but if he could, he would have seen a myriad of emotions and tells the Scout was exhibiting. The most prominent that neither of the other two men could even fathom, which was smugness. It was there, minute, and perhaps if the Spy was more aware of the Scout’s tells he would have noticed it, but as it stood the Spy was none the wiser to what the Scout knew. 

Because he knew a lot, and if anything the Spy’s presence confirmed his theory.

But he liked to play fair, as there is no point in burning your bridges when they've done you no wrong, so the Scout didn't say anything at that moment. He just gave a small shrug. “Listen spook I know you wanna bone me but I kinda like this doofus, so i’m gonna have to decline your invitation.” 

The Spy raised an eyebrow in disgust and scoffed. “Please, I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last person on the planet.” His eyes drifted to the Sniper and if it were possible he stiffened further. “You are filth. Both of you. I saw more than you think.” He shook his head. “But I can be persuaded not to part with said information if you'd like.” He smiled, a slow and malicious smile, like the Medic when he got to perform an experimental procedure, or the Soldier when he blew off several people’s torsos. The Sniper felt his legs shake and his tongue go dry.

“Nah, you're fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I kinda wanna go back to fucking, so can you piss off or are you gonna stay and jerk off?” 

The Spy gave another scoff, but didn't say anything else as he left the room. The Scout began pulling his clothes back on. “Let’s go back to the van.” He said softly.

\---

If it were possible for someone to become a literal statue the Sniper would have been a contender. His entire body felt stiff, and when he moved there was no fluidness in his joints, his face was still and passive as he walked and any thought that went through his head seemed to be on autopilot. 

When they were back in the van everything was as it always was and the Sniper fell onto his bed in a heap of emotions and unresponsive limbs. He reached for a pillow and smothered himself in it and released a high pitched wail. The Scout sat down next to him and rubbed his thigh as he let off more screams.

“Look, everything's gonna be fine okay? The Spook is playing a very dangerous game and I don't think he's fully aware of it.” The Scout looked pensive as he sat and rubbed the Sniper’s leg, he himself was thinking as he muttered more supportive words to the Sniper. He needed to do some reconnaissance, but he needed time, and he wasn't sure how the Sniper was going to deal with the stress of the team knowing something so personal about him.

Most would assume the Spy had just walked in on the tail end of the blow job, the Scout was not most people.

“Look, the next few days are gonna suck, the team's gonna be a douche to me and you but seriously, don’t worry, i’m gonna fix everything, I just need a little time.” He pulled the pillow away from the Sniper. “Seriously, karma is gonna pay us back big time.”

The Sniper did not offer a response, he felt too drained too. He had gone from cloud nine to ninth layer of hell in a matter of moments and his body was in a strange sort of limbo as it was unsure of how to express itself, the Scout was here though. “Walt…” He said softly as he brought his hand to the Scout’s, his movements stilled.

“I’m telling you Oz. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

\---

It wasn't fine.

“So Snipes I heard you pissed on Scout.” The Engineer chuckled as he slapped the Sniper on the back.

“You know laddie, if you needed to go so bad i’m sure you coulda found a toilet.” The Demo said as he bumped into him walking back to the van.

“I don’t even want to know what kind of diseases he has contracted from you.” The Medic sneered as he brushed past him.

He must have gotten comments about it from every member of the team as did the Scout, though he didn't mention it.

The Scout still came to his van in the evenings but when he was there he seemed to be lost in thought and it took a lot to get his full attention, at one point he even jolted upright and belted a ‘aha!’ before falling back into bed and going off on another tangent about his brothers. It was surreal to see him like this, but the Sniper enjoyed it in a way.

He supposed it was due to the fact the Scout with him. The team was against them both rather than just him, and Sniper agreed wholeheartedly that misery loved company. He wasn't miserable however, the Scout prevented that. He acted as if nothing had occurred, and even spoke to Sniper about one day doing it again, though they should do some other stuff in the mean time.

The Sniper felt more open despite everything the shower incident had brought. Their makeout sessions where never stopped abruptly, and usually continued until both of them were fully satisfied. The Scout even offered to give him a massage after a particular hard day of fighting. He didn't know if it was because he was in a funk or if he was just the chew toy of the BLU’s for the day but he had died seven times that day and his back was full of knots. He didn't think massage was one of the Scout’s talents but at that moment he was very glad it was.

The team slowly stopped making comments around him, but he still felt a pin prick in his mind when he walked past the living room and there were a few of them in there. He knew they didn't just talk about him, he wasn’t vain enough to think that, but he knew if anything was mentioned it only took a few choice words, a few shifts in topics to end up on him. He would always hum loudly to block out the sound of them as he walked past. He didn't need to hear what they said.

“You've been ducking out a lot recently.” The Sniper said on one particular evening, he had just made a coffee and sat back down next to the Scout who was pulling on his shoes.

“I've been investigating, i'm like Batman.” He said as way of explanation, he was smiling, a strong genuine one that the Sniper cherished. It made himself want to smile, and he did.

“I get that, I just, I dunno. I miss you I guess.” He shook his head. “It sounds silly, I mean you're right here, but it's weird falling asleep when you’re not next to me.” The Scout stood and seemed to falter, he looked softly at the Sniper and ran his hand across his cheek.

“Only a few more nights. I swear after that, everything thing will be golden.” He moved past him and out the door, running across the grounds back into base. The Sniper often wanted to follow him, but he knew he didn't have to. 

For once the Sniper felt nothing but implicit trust for the Scout. 

\---

“Bushman.” The Spy said loftily as he walked into the kitchen. The Sniper stood by the coffee machine and willed it to brew faster as the Frenchman approached. “How have you been? I spoke to Medic about some sort of therapy to help you out with you problem.” The Spy patted him on the back. “I’m sure if you traced it back far enough you’d find out why you’re such a disgusting pig.” 

The Sniper wasn't sure what emotion he was feeling at that point. It was so mixed up in his own head that any attempt to understand it only resulted in snippets. He knew he was furious, yes, embarrassed, humiliated. The list went on. But after that, there was a distinct feeling of emptiness.

He didn't say anything as he left the room, leaving the coffee behind. He brushed past the Spy who gave a small chuckle and then the Pyro who walked in after. The Sniper only felt his face heat up and blood begin to boil once he was halfway to his van. He thought of being alone, wallowing in his sorrows, but he couldn't bare the idea of even doing that.

The Scout was easier to find than he thought he would be. On days when he wasn't with Sniper he usually trained, but when he gave a quick look around the gym and didn't see him he quickly moved on, not wanting to linger anywhere someone like the Spy could jump him. 

He was near the medical bay, around the corner from the doors, outside of the window holding onto something, when the Sniper happened across him. He was going to the field, and just used the corridor as a shortcut, not expecting to see the Scout there. He was about to call his name when the Scout’s head jerked and he shushed him with a finger, the Sniper went into hunter mode and his footsteps quieted considerably. The Scout looked at the object in his hand again before nodding to the Sniper and next to him. The Sniper climbed out of the open window and ducked down next to the Scout. “You okay? You're usually in the van right now.” 

This seemed to jog the Sniper’s memory. “I bumped into the Spy.” The Scout gave a nod of understanding before bringing his hand up to his shoulder.

“I’m telling you. Tomorrow everything will be cool.” The Sniper shook his head, a smile on his face.

“What are you even planning, what is that-” The Sniper went to reach for the small item in the Scout’s hands but it was retracted from him.

“You don’t need to know right now. Sorry Snipes, but you’re a bit of a liability.” The Sniper frowned but didn't say anything, opting instead to pout. The Scout gave a small laugh. “It’s a camera, Miss Pauling gave it to me.” He said as way of explanation, the Sniper was about to ask the obvious questions when the Heavy walked past the window, he didn't notice them and continued down around the corner, the Scout made a noise. “Look Snipes, i’m kinda busy, i’ll see you tonight, okay?” With an extreme amount of grace, the Scout vaulted over the window sill and poked his head back around to the Sniper. “Don’t follow me.” The Scout moved down the corridor and away from the Sniper.

\---

That evening the Scout came to him almost like a dream, he didn't bother knocking as he knew the Sniper's van was unlocked and always open to him. As he came in he sighed loudly, the sound of several objects falling onto the floor resounded through the small space and when the Sniper sat up he saw an awful lot of things littering the ground. “Scout?” He asked, the man in question looked at the floor and back to him before shrugging.

“Excuse the mess, I would pick it up, but, i'm tired.” He said before taking off his clothes and jumping in next to the Sniper. He didn't say anything for a moment, as he let his breathing even out.

“You okay? You looked a little frazzled when I saw you.” The Scout let his head fall to the side to regard the Sniper.

“Yeah i’m great. Everything's all set for tomorrow.” The Scout let his eyes close in apparent thought before opening them again. “I'm just hoping it all works out.” 

“Well, what are you planning?” The Sniper lifted himself up, supporting his body on his elbows, the Scout wasn't looking at him anymore, and instead stared up at the ceiling.

The Scout made a face that was a mix between confusion and frustration. “I don't wanna spoil the surprise. I think it's the right thing to do, but the more i'm getting ready to execute it, the more i'm starting to second guess myself.” 

The Sniper didn't like it when the Scout was like this. He preferred it when he was happy and laughing. Even when he was pensive there was still that undercurrent of joy that the Scout always seemed to be exhibiting. Right now however there was none of that. He leant forward and brushed his lips against him, trying to will forth a reaction. He did get one, a small smile that tickled his lips as he deepened the kiss. 

He felt himself get lost in the movements, the feeling of the Scout’s surprisingly soft lips moving and brushing against his. It was calming in a way he couldn't even express. As the minutes ticked on the Sniper felt a familiar heat wake up inside him, and he brought his hands to rest on the Scout’s exposed chest. He breathed in deep as he did, letting his fingers trail across the muscle there.

They laid like that for a while, both getting lost in the sensation. Eventually the Scout wiggled free and pressed the Sniper down into the mattress, and straddled him there. Like a predator toying with its prey, he looked down at the Sniper with half lidded eyes. “I've really gotta pee Snipes.” The Scout said as he moved against the Sniper’s chest. He brought his hands up to grip the Scout’s strong thighs.

“Yeah?” He said softly, and the Scout moved his position, twisting his body so he was facing away from the Sniper his pert ass right in front of his eyes. 

The Scout brought his hand against the Sniper’s cloth clad dick, before he pulled it free from the confines of his boxers. When he bent down to lick it the Sniper saw the small wet patch both on his chest and on the Scout’s underwear. He groaned. “I don’t think i’m gonna be able to hold it.” The Scout breathed against the Sniper’s already painfully hard cock. Another trickle dribble out from the Scout and landed in small drips on the Sniper’s chest. 

With a sudden burst of energy and strength, the Sniper grabbed the Scout’s thighs and dragged him towards him. The sodden fabric was soon over his face and the Sniper buried himself into it. He heard the Scout gasp as he sucked on the fabric, bringing a few sweet drops of the liquid into his mouth. He eventually pulled the fabric to the side and kissed the skin there, the Scout made a keening noise before more liquid trickled out and down across the Sniper’s face. He brought his cock to his mouth with a bit more maneuvering it was all the intensive ths Scout needed. 

He released his pent up urine. The Sniper at first choked at the sudden liquid bursting into his mouth, and the Scout stopped his stream asking if he was okay. The Sniper muttered a go on and the Scout did. This time the Sniper was prepared and he swallowed each gulp of piss as it filled his mouth. He rubbed the Scout’s thighs as he drunk, and the Scout kept sucking his dick in return. Once the Scout’s stream died down, the Sniper started sucking in earnest, lapping at his cock, and trailing his tongue along it. 

He loved how the Scout moaned around his cock in return, sending vibrations up it. It was too much and soon the Sniper filled the Scout’s mouth with his own liquid. He felt the Scout give a few more cursory licks before he too went rigid with orgasm. 

Falling to the side the Scout looked up at the ceiling, panting hard and fast as the Sniper did the same. “That was great Oz.” He whispered, though it still sounded far too loud in the van. Everything usually did late at night. 

The Sniper nodded, though he knew from this angle the Scout couldn't see him. “You need to piss on me more often.” He heard him give a chuckle, before a hand gently swatted his exposed stomach.

“You more into that then? Being pissed on rather than the pisser?” He said as he lifted his body up, resting his elbows on the Sniper’s stomach. The Sniper didn't mind. He had enough pudge there that the Scout’s elbows didn't hurt.

He nodded. “Yeah, I used to-” He wanted to tell him, but the words got caught in his mouth, unwilling to come out. He looked at the Scout, hoping what he saw there would help him. He saw nothing but open honestly when he did and continued. “When I was younger I used to piss in jars when I went out hunting or camping. It made sense, ain't no bathrooms in the bush so you’d go in a jar. Course, it wasn't till i was a bit older that it turned me on. The first time I-” The Scout’s eyes hadn't left him, or lost that empathic edge. “I poured it on myself, it felt great, and I kept doing it, though I had to be careful cause I still lived at home. When I started work here I didn't think much of going in the jars, I mean I barely register when I do it sometimes, i'm in hunter mode so i’m on autopilot. Then of course Spy caught me doing it and I haven't been able to live it down since.” He said the last part with a particular emptiness in his voice. He still remembered when it happened. He was pissing and the Spy had walked into his nest. He was brazen about it all, not even caring that he had just picked the lock and invaded the Sniper’s privacy. He took one look at him, dick in a jar and hand on a gun, and left the room quickly. At first the Sniper thought he wasn't going to mention it, and even naively thought he was going to be fine. 

“So do you get turned on when you piss in the jars?” The Scout asked as he rolled his shoulders slightly, trying to stop them from locking up. 

The Sniper shook his head. “I’m not constantly turned on by piss. I have to be in the right mood and it has to be in the right context.” He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know the mechanics of why I like it, I just know I do.” 

The Scout gave a bob of his head, and moved his elbows from the Sniper’s stomach to the pillow next to his head. The Sniper had to turn to see his face, but when he did he saw a small smile. “We’ll i’m glad you like it. Cause if you didn’t, we wouldn’t be together right now.”

A smile of his own grew on the Sniper’s face. “I suppose you’re right.”

The Scout scoffed. “I’m always right. Now budge up. I wanna cuddle.” The Sniper obliged and he felt the Scout’s slender frame wrap around his own. 

He was luckier than he gave himself credit for.

\---

When he awoke, the Scout was no where to be seen. He touched the mattress next to him and it felt cool to the touch. The Scout usually got up a bit before the Sniper, but the Sniper was an early riser himself and the bed usually held some semblance of warmth that alluded to the Scout’s presence. 

He got up and made his coffee before glancing at the clock on his bedside cabinet. It was 6:05 on a Sunday, their day off. The Sniper gave a small frown, the Scout usually woke up at 7 on a Sunday.

He stopped his train of thought, shaking his head. He could wake up when he wanted, he didn't need to go all neurotic just because the Scout decided to wake up earlier than usual. He remembered the Scout saying something was happening today but he didn't think too much about it, his mind wandering in other directions. When his coffee was done he sat and sipped at it, thinking of Walt. His eyes, his face, his personality. The Sniper was slowly realising he was falling him and it worried him more than anything. He tried to tell himself he wasn't, that nothing had changed in terms of his feelings for the other. But they had. They had so much.

He heard the battle siren wail and he jolted in his seat. It was a Sunday and no fighting was scheduled for today. He looked over to the compound and tried to see any activity. It all looked so barren, but his gut rolled as the sirens sounded. Like Pavlov's dog, he too had been conditioned.

After pulling on his clothes and throwing his rifle around his shoulders he walked toward the compound. When he entered he saw the Engineer in the corridor, he had his overalls on, but a pyjama top underneath, he looked at the Sniper and rose an eyebrow. The Sniper shrugged in return and they moved towards the intelligence room. 

Along the ways more joined, all tired and wearing a strange assortment of their uniforms and pyjamas. All except himself and the Spy, who looked as if he had dressed himself especially for the occasion. The Sniper looked around to try and see the Scout in and amongst the others but he wasn’t there. His stomach gave another lurch.

Being near the back of the crowd the Sniper didn't see much as he walked into the intelligence room. When the mercs dispersed into it and he was able to see more clearly he felt his heart seize. The Scout stood at the front of the room with a board set up as well as a projector. He sat on a plush office desk and beamed at all of the mercs as they entered. “Hello all!” He yelled over the sound of the siren. He leaned over to the desk and pressed the button, silencing the alarm. In a quieter voice he spoke. “Glad you could all make it. Now please, have a seat.” He said gesturing to the two rows of motley chairs, each pilfered for different locations. Two being the deck chairs from the Sniper's van.

“What is the meaning of this?” The Medic asked, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. “You have violated rule number 1, Scout. By activating the alarm when the intelligence is untouched, Miss Pauling-”

 

“Nah, she knows about this shit.” He waved his hand dismissively. “In fact when I told her what I was doing she was all for it.’” The Medic frowned but didn't say any more as he pulled out one of the chairs and sat on it.

The rest followed his example sitting on the chairs, and muttering to one another in question. Even the Spy seemed oddly curious muttering a few words to the Medic, who seemed just as confused.

The Sniper pulled one of the chairs further back into the room, not wanted to be near any of the others. He still felt the barbs of their words from earlier and he didn't want to encourage anything. The Scout watched them all as they settled, his grin growing ever malevolent. The room seemed to go cold around the Sniper as he watched him, and if it wasn’t for the fact the Scout had proved numerous times how much he cared about him he would be very, very worried.

“Right you assholes are probably wondering why I called you all here at 6:30 on Sunday, well I just thought it was about time I evened the playing field.“ This caused a few murmurs to erupt around the room, but the Scout soon shushed them. “Now you all know about me and Sniper and what we have been doing together.“ The Sniper heard a laugh which he was sure was the Spy’s and winced, quietly willing the Scout to stop talking. “Well, I thought it was rather douchey of you all to pick on the Sniper and me when you all got gross shit your into as well.”

This seemed to shut up the room, and the Sniper could have sworn a pin being dropped across the map would have been able to have audible to him in that moment. “I thought that would get your attention.” The Scout said, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “You see, you guys aren't as secretive as you’ve thought, and whilst you all seem to be on guard for monsieur Frenchy snooping around you all seem to have forgot about moi.” The Scout pulled his shirt out as if he was wearing suspenders as he regarded the room. “And I have something on all of you.” He said the last part whilst looking at the Spy and though he could only see the back of his covered head the Sniper could feel the anxiousness radiating from his body.

“So let’s start simple shall we.” The Scout pulled out a small remote and clicked on it once, the projector then showed the title card. “THE DIRTY SECRETS OF THE MERCS OF RED.” The Sniper saw heads turn and gasp when the next slide was clicked. 

It was the Soldier on the battlefield, naked and seemingly unaware to the fact he was being photographed. It was late in the evening, judging from the colouring of the photo, but what was shocking was what he was actually doing.

The Sniper grimaced as the Scout pressed the button again, and again. Progressing the photos. The Soldier seemed to move across the field keeping his body low, heading towards a rock. Again everyone seemed quiet as they watched what he was doing, as he reached the rock, he moved it aside and a human body flopped out.

“Good Lord!” The Engineer cried out. “Sol don't tell me-”

The Scout shushed him. “No talking!” 

They went quiet again, and the Scout clicked a few more times, as he did the Soldier pulled out something from his belt (the only piece of clothing he was wearing) and cut into the body. The Sniper could see the fear in everyone’s shoulders as they watched. The Soldier seemed highly uninterested it what was being shown as he pulled his helmet down and stared at the floor.

When the body was cut, blood oozed out of the wound and the Soldier seemed to slathering it across his arms and chest, after that it the Soldier began touching himself. When a blank photo was shown the Scout looked back out onto the crowd. “So Solly has a blood fetish, who’d have thought it? I knew you got too excited when you killed somebody.” He said it cheerfully as he regarded the Soldier. The man in question lifted his head, before giving a small shrug.

Everyone else seemed too shell shocked to even speak. The Sniper watched the Scout as he stood and looked around the room. “Who's next I wonder? “ He held the controller up in the air and the room went still.

He clicked, and the Engineer was on screen. That man seemed to mutter a small prayer before the Scout started clicking some more.

What got everyone's attention however was that it wasn't just the Engineer in these photos, the Demoman soon made an appearance as well.

This got the room giving off small murmurs before the Scout shushed them again. The photos looked like they had been taken from up high in the Engineer’s workshop, perhaps in the vent there. The Scout clicked more and at first nothing seemed unusual, in fact it was just the two talking and eating dinner. 

Until the Demo took off his shirt.

And the Engineer brought more food out.

The table had already been heavily covered, but the addition of more food and now a shirtless Demoman made everyone in the room raise an eyebrow. As the Demo ate, the Engineer rubbed his stomach, and even though the photos were dark, it was obvious where his other hand was.

There were a few more pictures of the Demo eating and then the Engineer giving him head, but after that it stopped and the Scout again turned to the front. “A feeder and a feedee.” The Scout shrugged. “I can't blame Demo for wanting to eat Engi’s food. It is rather delicious.” No one laughed at the joke, all too pulled tight by what was happening. The Engineer had his head in his hands and the Demoman looked around the room defiantly, though no one was looking back at him.

“Ah, but where would we be without the bases resident power couple?” He winked at the Medic. “Your turn Doc.”

A click, and the Medic’s office came into view. The Medic himself sat at his desk, the photos seemed to be taken from the air vents again, as the angle was slightly higher and tilted downward. It wasn’t apparent at first but the Heavy was in the room. He came into frame a few photos in, naked, and then sat by the Medic’s desk on his knees. For a while only photos of this were shown, until a large jump occurred and the Heavy was now bent across the Medic’s desk, and the Medic held a crop in his hand.

It was clear where it was going but the Sniper kept watching out of morbid curiosity. The photos changed, and with each one the welts on the Heavy’s ass and back grew in number as well as colour, going a more vivid red. 

Another jump and the Medic was now pressed against the Heavy’s ass, and a few pictures showed his cock sliding in and out of him.

A white screen. “I always thought you were a Dom Medic, though I hope you’re just as good at aftercare as you are at beating the shit outa Heavy.” He shrugged, and the Sniper looked around the room to the Pyro and Spy. The Spy sat in front of him and the Pyro stood off to side, pressing their body against the wall. The Sniper couldn’t tell what they were thinking and that bothered him. They seemed aloof to all of this and the Sniper looked back to the Scout.

Who was smiling at the Spy.

“I bet you think this is an empty threat. I bet you think I don't know anything. But you’re wrong. You are so. Wrong.” His grin grew. “But I can be persuaded not to part with the information if you'd like.” The Scout said mockingly as he took a step toward the Spy, who seemed to move back in his seat, his shoulders heaving with each deep breath he took. 

“No? Okay then, I would like to present. The Spy” The room was quiet in preparation. “With a guest appearance from the Pyro.”

The room seemed to convulse and they all turned toward the figure standing alone at the side of the room. Even the Spy turned and the Sniper could see the look of pure concern on his features. The Pyro themselves did not so much as flinch, staying perfectly still as if they were a statue.

The screen went white and then it showed the showers. For a moment the Sniper felt a blind panic seize him before he realised that the photos seemed to have been taken from his crucible not of it. The room was empty, but then a light came on and the Pyro walked in. He gave a cursory look around the room and the Sniper practically jolted when those two black lenses locked eyes with the camera. It was hard to tell if they were even looking at the camera or if his eyes were elsewhere, but still, the Sniper felt a burst of concern for the Scout’s well being in that moment.

The next photo and the Spy entered, the two seemed to talk, and to everyone's surprise, the Pyro lifted their mask. Their face wasn't visible, and the fact it was pictures meant there was no audio. The Spy in front of him fidgeted in his chair and whilst one in the photos walked off to a cubicle with the Pyro behind him. The screen went empty, and the Scout lifted an audio recorder up. “Now the two went off frame and I didn't wanna risk being caught so luckily I brought this with me.” The recorder started and the Scout placed it down. He kept clicking, and the Pyro was barely visible in the corner of the photo facing into the room and the Spy was nowhere to be seen

But then the audio really started.

Farts and other noises could be heard, past the Scout’s own breathing. The Sniper’s eyes widened in shock, as did the rest of the room’s. The photos changed position slightly as if the Scout had stretched his arm further into the room. They showed the Pyro slightly clearer, hunched over, with someone behind them. The suit was pulled down to their thighs revealing the Pyro’s arms, but the baggy shirt and shadows gave no hint as to the Pyro’s sex. The Sniper watched as the photos stayed largely the same. It was the audio that was really something. 

The Spy spoke occasionally, nothing more than French phrases and a few moans. The Sniper strained his ears for the Pyro’s voice, but whatever he heard sounded quiet, barely a whisper. 

When the audio ended so did the pictures.

The room sat and seemed to take in the information, each quiet in thought. The Sniper didn't know what to say or do, he looked to the Pyro who was still stood though their stance had changed slightly. The Spy had his head in his hands and the Sniper felt some glee as his misery, though it was only minor.

“Scat? Really? You’re into shit and you give the Sniper hell cause he likes piss? You really are an asshole.” The Scout shook his head. “At least you found the Pyro, i’m glad they know how to treat you properly.” The Scout gave a small smile. “Get it, cause they make you eat shit.” The Scout looked around the room when he pulled away from the Spy. “So there you have it gents and other, all of our dirty secrets out in the open. Now.” He glared at them all. “No more being an asshole, got it?” The Scout said the last part with so much venom everyone seemed taken aback. They all nodded quickly. “Alrighty then. Class dismissed.” He waved his hand at them before turning back to the projector screen and disabling it.

Slowly, the mercs rose, each one seeming to wobble a bit on their legs. They left and brushed past the Sniper, and each in a quiet voice apologized. It was a small thing to which the Sniper would nod and accept, and with each one his heart swelled. The Spy stopped by him and looked down at him with a sneer, but didn't speak. It didn't dampen the Sniper mood.

When the room was emptied he made his way to where the Scout stood and wrapped his arms around his body. “I can’t believe you did that.”

 

The Scout turned and grinned. “What? I told you I would. I always come through with my promises. You should have seen their faces though, oh my God it was great. Especially Spy. He looked like this-” The Scout made a face similar to ‘the Scream’ by Edvard Munch. He sighed. “Well now hopefully with that everyone will stop being utter douchebags to you.”

The Sniper smiled. “I don’t care what they think anymore. You sorta made me not care.”

The Scout blushed, though it was only there faintly. “Still… Gotta make sure my boyfriend’s treated right, don't i?” He crossed his arms, and the Sniper couldn’t help but kiss him.

\---

The next few days were surreal for the Sniper. When he bumped into the team on the field it wasn't fierce words of disgust that left their lips, it was words of encouragement or even praise. In the base when he went to make coffee the Engineer would sit and say hi, and they even had a small chat together as they drank. When he saw the Heavy, the larger man would stop him and asked him a few questions, and the Sniper answered them as best he could. It was strange for him to feel like he was a part of the team after going so long being the pariah. He didn't know what to do with all the attention he was getting, everyone at some point had spoken to him. Well, all bar the Spy, who seemed to scowl and walk past him faster if they ever crossed paths. A part of him wanted to torment him. Just a little. But the other part felt sorry for him. The team weren't saying anything about it, any of it, to one another. But there was that small undercurrent that coloured all interaction with one another, which usually boiled down to slightly pointed looks if anything so much as vaguely related to one of their fetishes was brought up. The Sniper knew after awhile this would go away, and then maybe they could all be actual friends and not what ever the Scout had manipulated them into being. He knew that would take time however.

Speaking of the Scout, as he walked into the gym he was there, hitting balls with his bat against the wall. He stopped when he heard footsteps and turned. “Gotta be honest, I thought you were the Spy trying to kill me.” He lowered his bat.

The Sniper scoffed. “If he was gonna kill you, do you think he would do it in broad daylight.” The Scout didn't look convinced. “What has he said to you?”

 

He shrugged. “They haven't said anything. None of them. But you can see it in there faces, they may hate me now, but in a week, a month, a year. Whenever. They'll realise I had to do it.” He looked at the Sniper right in his eyes. “I had to.” The Sniper did not comment but he did bring his hand up to stroke the Scout’s face, it made his sombre mood lift slightly as he smiled at the Sniper. “Wanna go to the showers? I've had two cans of Bonk! this morning.”

The Sniper smirked. “Lead the way, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I think i'm gonna do smaller fics based off this one, but i dont really know what im gonna write next. i have a bunch of ideas, but it's all in the air at the moment. anyway, hope you liked this fic my lovelies. remember to comment and kudos if you liked (or add me on tumblr if you want to chat: [Trashcan McGee](http://trashcan-mcgee.tumblr.com/) ). I don’t think you guys realise how much I love your comments. Seriously I squeal when I see them (you are all awesome) :P 
> 
> Laters my lovelies. ;)


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